


in my experience there's no such thing as luck

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Jedi!Sasha, Jedi!Zolf, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Star Wars AU, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...The Jedi have fallen. In the aftermath of Order 66, the Empire rules the Galaxy. But there are many who remember a time before Stormtroopers marched the streets. On a distant planet, Zolf Smith, former Jedi, lies low, while around the galaxy, the spark of rebellion is starting to be lit...
Relationships: Sasha Racket & Zolf Smith
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> i was really into the star wars rebels tv show when i was 12 and it _shows_

Zolf is keeping his head down. He’s good at that, nowadays. His hood is pulled low, and he’s careful not to push past anyone as he walks through the marketplace. It’s evening, but not past curfew just yet. The stormtroopers stationed at every street corner are still just talking amongst themselves, for now. 

Zolf doesn’t look up, but the silhouette of the Star Destroyer suspended in the atmosphere above weighs heavy on his mind, regardless. 

This isn’t his planet, he’s just passing through.. He doesn’t really have a planet, raised alongside his fellow Jedi as he was, but his heart still aches for the people here, for all the lives lost to this Imperial occupation. It isn’t right. But then, nothing’s been right in the galaxy for a long time. 

He carries on down the street. The place he’s staying is small and dirty, far too many people crowded together, but he can’t afford drawing attention to himself with anywhere nicer. Not a former Jedi padawan turned small time troublemaker like he is. 

He feels something brush against his pocket, and puts a hand down before he realises that the touch wasn’t something _physical_ He knows there’ll be nothing there before he even has to look down, so he closes his eyes and _reaches_ and _there—_

He hears the tiny intake of breath more through the Force than his ears. He swings around, glad the streets are still bustling, hiding him, and reaches into the shadows. 

The person darts away from his grasp, but doesn’t run. She looks like she almost wants to, but instead she just stares at him, tensed to move. 

“How did you do that?” he asks, because he knows damn well what it felt like. It felt like this kid just tried to pickpocket him with the Force. 

“Did what,” she mutters. She still looks two seconds away from running. 

“Who are you?” 

“Who’s askin’?” 

“I—” 

From down the street, they both hear the stern voices of stormtroopers beginning to signal curfew cutting across the rumble of the crowd. People begin to scatter. The troopers keep moving in their direction. 

“We need to go,” Zolf says. 

“Down here.” The person shoots off down a sidestreet, and Zolf hurries after her. 

“Hey, slow down,” he calls in a low voice, “I can’t go that fast—” 

She reappears by his side, and despite himself, he jumps. He’s a Jedi, people shouldn’t be able to make him jump. That’s the whole point. 

The part of him that had enjoyed Jedi training thinks _that is not the whole point of being a Jedi._

The rest of him tells it _well, I’m not even an actual Jedi, so get over it._

“They won’t find us here,” the girl tells him. She’s dressed in black, the shabby kind of black that’s the colour of shadows rather than the colour of space. Her hair is short, her face pale and thin, like she hasn’t eaten enough, just, ever. Despite that, though, he can clearly see the hilt of an electroblade tucked into her sleeve. _Who are you?_ he thinks. 

“You sure?” he asks her. 

“Patrol isn’t due down here for a little while yet,” she says shortly. “Who the hell are you?” 

“I’m Zolf Smith,” he says. 

“How did you find me?” 

“How did you pick my pocket like that?” 

“I don’t know!” she says frustratedly. “I just can. People don’t— they just don’t notice. You Imperial? _How did you find me?”_

Okay. Zolf feels a little bit like he’s going to panic, because out of everyone who could find someone Force sensitive who clearly has no idea about their powers, it has to be _him,_ who never finished his training, who only survived Order 66 by deserting his crew, who’s been doing nothing apart from hiding out for the last however many years it’s been. _And,_ just to make things more difficult, they’re on a planet currently under full Imperial occupation. Zolf doesn’t believe in bad luck, so it must be the Force fucking with him personally. 

“Okay,” he says out loud. “Okay. First, I’m not with the Empire.” 

She does look relieved by that, although the tension doesn’t ease. 

“I’m— It’s kind of complicated, I—” he breaks off. “You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to, but—” 

“Sasha,” she interrupts. “I’m Sasha Rackett.” 

_Rackett._ He’s heard of the Racketts. You don’t spend any time on this planet at all and not hear about the Racketts, the biggest crime family this system. Notorious for their deals with the Empire, making themselves untouchable in exchange for any information off the streets about rebels or dissidents. This just got a whole lot more complicated.

She evidently knows his expression, because she says “I’m not one of them anymore.” 

“Fine, whatever,” Zolf says. “Doesn’t matter right now. Sasha, do you know that you’re Force sensitive?” 

Sasha stares at him warily, but Zolf gets the idea the revelation isn’t a surprise. 

“I am too,” he says, even though she’s almost certainly figured that out by now. 

“You’re a Jedi?” she asks. 

There’s a long answer to that question, and this is not the time for it, so he says “Yeah.” 

“What are you doing here, then?” 

“Well. How do you feel about the Empire?” 

She scowls. “Bad. They took my cousin.” 

“Right, okay. Okay. We need to get out of here.” 

“Like, this city?” 

“That,” Zolf agrees, “But also? Offworld. Away from the Empire. Both of us.” 

She glances away. “I might know a guy.”

There’s a distant shout from somewhere down the street, and Sasha tenses again. “Patrol’s here,” she says. “We should get out of here.” she pauses before adding “Grag’s pub, over in the North sector.” 

“I’ll meet you there.” 

——

He gets halfway down the street before he reaches for his belt and nearly has a heart attack. 

“Sasha,” he turns calls into the darkness behind him. “Give that back.” 

She materializes from the shadows, close enough that Zolf wonders if she’d been following him. “What even is it?” she asks, brandishing the short metal cylinder she’d taken off his belt. 

“It’s worth nothing to you,” Zolf says, and puts a hand out. She puts it in his palm reluctantly. “I’ll tell you another time.” He very carefully doesn’t let his hand stray to the pocket where he keeps the other part. 

——

It’s only when he gets into the relative privacy of his room and clips the two cylinders together that he breathes easy again. The lightsaber ignites with a familiar hum, warm in his hands. The light casting his face into a myriad shadows is as green as the ocean.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf and Sasha learn to work together.

Sasha had never planned to stay in Rackett territory. Not after everything her uncle had done, not after they’d handed Brock over to the Imperials. But it’s harder to get past a full Imperial blockade than you might think, especially when you have no allies, and danger surrounding you from every side. 

(And it’s hard, too, to turn away from the last place she ever saw her cousin. It’s true, what they say. This city is full of ghosts.) 

She wasn’t planning on staying with Zolf Smith, either. He was a useful way out, but beyond that? She wasn’t going to stay. She was going to steal a ship, change her name, and never stop running. 

That, well. That hadn’t happened. 

They’re a good team. Neither of them are very good at talking, but they’re both exceptional at pissing off the Empire, and that’s what counts. They skip from system to system, hacking broadcasts, stealing ships, sharing drinks. 

Zolf doesn’t really talk about the Force, but occasionally he’ll put his hand out next to hers and try to show her how to lift things without touching them. She could do it almost unconsciously in the spur of the moment, when she was out stealing, but now? It’s harder. She isn’t very good at it. Zolf doesn’t mind. He just warns her to never, ever, use her powers around the Empire. The look in his eyes makes her take his words seriously. 

Some days, Sasha tries to teach him how to jump and climb like she does, techniques that work with his leg and enable him to be as agile as he can. He also isn’t very good at it. 

“Thought you were supposed to be a Jedi,” Sasha calls down from a rooftop. Chedl Delta is dull, duller than most, but there are some good spots for parkour. 

“Didn’t finish my training,” Zolf calls back. “Guess I missed the jumping lessons.” 

She knows he’s joking-- that’s something she’s always appreciated about Zolf. He’s straightforward with his expressions, clear enough even for her to read without difficulty. “What do you have to do to not finish Jedi training?” she asks, anyway. “Blow someone up or something?” 

“Still be training during Order 66,” Zolf tells her wryly. 

“Oh.” She leaps off the roof, flipping and landing deftly on her feet in front of him. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his face a study in carelessness, behind his beard. “It was years ago now.” 

“Not that many years,” Sasha says quietly. 

The street is empty and silent, nothing but the distant sound of the wind blowing between buildings that have their windows boarded up. 

She’s told Zolf about Brock, in a few, halting words. Perhaps the knowledge of shared experience that hangs between them is what makes Zolf carry on. They haven’t known each other that long, but it’s been long enough to learn that both of them would rather bury things than talk. But perhaps this isn’t about that. Perhaps this is about trust. 

“It was--” he stops, shifts uneasily. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but it… It was my birthday. Order 66.”

He says it casually, despite the hitch in his voice. Sasha can’t help but wince, and she knows that he notices. Whilst the Empire has displays and demonstrations all year round, Empire Day is infamous as the biggest and loudest. Sasha’s made sure she’s as deep underground as she can be for every single one since Brock was taken. 

It’s coming up again, though. A matter of weeks. For the first time in her life, she hadn’t been dreading it, too distracted by her escape. But now it all comes flooding back. 

She wishes she knew what to say. But she’d never been very good at people, much to Barrett’s anger. _You’re special,_ he’d tell her witheringly. _Not that you’d know it to look at you. You can’t even make eye contact, you useless child._

She’d never learnt how to be kind and comforting and say the right thing to make people feel better. But she is very, very fluent in the language of revenge. 

The pause drags on, and Zolf inhales, straightening his jacket. “We’d better be getting back to the ship.” 

He starts off down the street, but Sasha doesn’t move. 

“What do you want to do?” she blurts after him. He turns, looks back at her. 

“What?” 

“Empire day. Your, your birthday. What do you want to do?” 

“It isn’t exactly a cake and presents sort of occasion, Sasha.” 

“I know. Mine isn’t, neither. That’s not what I mean. Look, you’re the boss, right, and you choose the places we hit, and all that. So choose one. A good one. Birthday present.” 

“Yeah,” Zolf says softly. “Okay. I can do that.” 

“S’not very Jedi like, is it?” 

He smiles tiredly. “The Jedi are dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> more on the way! 
> 
> find me on tumblr as drowninginstarlights :D


End file.
